


All Our Ashes Turned to Gold

by magblood



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, References to Depression, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:01:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26838649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magblood/pseuds/magblood
Summary: Set during the year of the Half Blood Prince, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger find themselves inexplicably linked. Will their newfound connection be enough to change the course of both their lives?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	1. Potion of Calming

Hermione gathers the books that have been strewn across the floor while she slept. Her essay for Potions is crumpled under her heavy bed linens, her wand tucked between pages of her Herbology textbook. Potions with Slughorn so far had been a welcome relief after years spent under Professor Snape's prying gaze, and Hermione found herself looking forward to the challenge of impressing a new member of staff with her higher than average skill. With a quick muttered spell, her essay parchment was restored and she tucked it, along with the rest of her things, into her robes. 

Harry and Ron are waiting for her outside of the Potions classroom, their heads bent together in a tense conversation that she assumes is another about Draco Malfoy. In Hermione's opinion, Draco had become somewhat of an obsession of Harry's this year, something she assumes is more about his embarrassment over the broken nose he received on sorting night than any substantial evidence. Of course Hermione knew Draco's father and mother were close to Voldemort, but she sincerely doubted anyone with half a brain could trust Draco with any real power or responsibility. "Oh hey Hermione", Ron says, pulling his attention away from Harry. 

"Hello Ronald, are you two discussing what I assume you're discussing?"

"Huh, yea", Ron mutters, shooting a sidelong glance at Harry. 

Harry's face is twisted into a grimace and Hermione follows his eyes down the hallway to where Draco and his friends have rounded the corner. She wishes she could convince Harry that there was nothing he needed to worry about, if Dumbledore didn't already suspect Draco, then there shouldn't be any danger. "He's just so full of himself," Harry mutters, his eyes still trained on the Slytherin's blond head. Hermione grabs him by the inside of the elbow and pulls him into the Potion's room, Ron following close behind, creating a barrier between Draco and Harry with his tall frame.

They unpack their things, Harry with his gaze on the Slytherins across the room and Ron with his gaze imploringly on Hermione. She gives him a tense smile, knowing that he's had to hear about Harry's theories in a constant stream since school had started for the term. Hermione herself takes a quick look over her shoulder to inspect Draco and his friends. She doesn't understand Harry's comment about Draco looking full of himself, if anything he looked a bit distressed. Draco's lips were pulled taught, the circles that always ringed his eyes were like bruises, and his already pale skin lacked even the hint of pink flush. Slughorn called their attention from the front of the room and each turned to discover what their assignment would be for the day's lecture. 

"Today's potion assignment will be the calming draught, a potion used primarily in the easing of negative feelings", Slughorn booms, a smile already gracing his wrinkled features. "This is a relatively straightforward brew, which you will find in chapter 6 of your textbook", he says, a mischievous glimmer entering his eye. "Be warned that improper preparation of the crocodile heart may produce the opposite effect in some persons", Slughorn says, expecting this to be just the case. He writes important points on the boards behind him while Harry, Ron and Hermione flip to the chapter in question. Hermione still feels a tinge of anger when she sees Harry's tattered potions book, the dark black scribblings of the 'Half Blood Prince' evident in every step of the current assignment. Though he has offered to share these notes with both her and Ron, she refuses to indulge in what she can only deem as a form of cheating. 

Slughorn has written a spell on the front board, something to reverse any negative effects of the brew, and Hermione files that away in the event that Ron's potion turns out as it normally does. An hour later and each has finished their potion of calming with varying degrees of dark purple coloring, a fact that concerns Hermione. Slughorn leans his head over each cauldron one by one, making notes on appearance, smell and thickness to determine their scoring. He's started at the Slytherin table and Harry, Ron and Hermione watch as he has Draco and another dark haired boy take a sip of their own draughts. Both boys' expressions sour after the thick purple liquid touches their tongue. The dark haired Slytherin jumps from the table a moment later, a look of shear panic in his eyes as he runs laps around the back of the classroom. Draco, however, looks reserved and seems entirely disinterested in the misfortune of his friend, instead staring dutifully at his pale hands against the wooden tabletop. 

Ron mutters something disappointed about wanting to see Draco scurry about the classroom like a scared rat, and Harry's expression is equally as dissatisfied. Slughorn performs the necessary spell to quiet the the other Slytherin boy, who promptly slides to the ground in relief, and moves on to the next few tables. A few other students are asked to try their less-than-adequate potions in order for Slughorn to demonstrate the opposing spell work but before he reaches Harry, Ron and Hermione the signal for end of class rings and they are sparred. Hermione tells Harry and Ron that she'll be heading to the library to finish up her assignment for Runes and that she'll meet them at dinner. In the library Hermione sets her things at her regular table, and walks quickly through the stacks of books to find the texts she's looking for. 

Now in the section devoted to ancient symbols towards the back of the library, Hermione fills her arms with everything she needs, only briefly glancing at the covers. A small whimpering sound comes from somewhere further back and her momentum slows. She sets the stack of books on a nearby table and makes her way through the remaining few rows, searching for the source of the sound. The whimpering grows louder as she reaches the row closest to the restricted section of the library, in an area very few students still visit. Slumped against a row of brown and black leather books is Draco Malfoy, his blond hair messy around his downturned head. His face is covered by his long-fingered hands and Hermione's stomach turns as she realizes the whimpering she's followed is the sound of Draco crying into his palms. A nervous energy grips her then and she's unsure whether to run before he sees her or take this opportunity to embarrass the boy that had made her first few years at Hogwarts a living hell. Hermione clears her throat, deciding on the latter option but is immediately regretful. 

Draco's head whips up and his eyes meet her's with a quiet furry, his face is covered in tears and his mouth is set into a hard frown. She has never seen him like this, and without his usual careless smirk its difficult for Hermione not to reach for her more empathetic self. Without thinking she pulls her wand from her pocket and flicks it in Draco's direction. He flinches hard expecting an attack but, at the feeling of his now dry face and hands, he seems to relax. His eyes are on her, searching for something to understand why she's done this thing to help him, but Hermione finds herself momentarily speechless under the prying gaze. She doesn't know why she's helped him either- a fact that she'll never be able to reveal to Harry or Ron or risk being labeled as a traitor or clinically insane. 

"Go run and tell Potter you've seen me crying in the library", Draco bites, his eyes leaving her and the searching expression dissolving into a grimace. 

"I, uh, won't be doing that actually", Hermione says, starting to back away from Draco. He doesn't look at her again, but the pain in his expression seems to diminish ever so slightly at her words. 

Hermione walks fast to gather her things, forgetting entirely about Runes homework and the stack of books she's left on a nearby table. She's practically running down the hallway in the direction of Gryffindor tower, eager to find the privacy to work through what she's just done. How could she have helped Draco so easily, after everything he had done to her and especially to Harry. That seeking look he had given her had made her feel like she was receiving an X-ray, like he saw right through to her core and all the secrets she hid there. What did Draco see in her, she wonders before stopping herself. She knew exactly what he thought of her, he had made it abundantly clear that her parentage made her no more than an insect compared to himself. 

Back in her dorm, Hermione sets her things near the bed and crawls fully dressed beneath her bed covers, pulling her knees to her stomach in a protective position. The guilt of needing to hide this experience from her friends is all-consuming, especially given the fact that Draco had been all that Harry would talk about to Ron and Hermione for the last month. She lets her mind drift, full of images of shockingly blond hair and tears running down a thin, pale face.


	2. Confrontation

Hermione wakes the next morning still dressed in her robes, her head pounding from a restless night's sleep. Her mind fed her images of Draco crumpled on the floor of the library, his shoulders gently shaking as he cried. She never imagined she could feel anything for Draco short of contempt, but the way his face had twisted in pain when she helped him struck a cord in Hermione that left her buzzing with confusion. Gathering her things, and straightening her robes, Hermione heads reluctantly to meet Harry and Ron at breakfast.

Her friends are sitting at their usual end of the Gryffindor table, Ron scarfing forkfuls of eggs into his mouth as he and Harry talk animatedly about something she can't hear. She sits next to Harry, and both boys give her a smile which she quickly tries to return. The topic is quidditch and Hermione is grateful to have an opportunity to just listen and nod, rather than open her mouth and risk revealing her secret. Her eyes dart quickly to the other side of the room surveying the Slytherin table for a shock of silver hair. Draco is seated near the far end of the table, his gang of friends talking loudly and seemingly unaware of the dour mood Draco is in. Hermione lets her gaze linger a second too long and Draco's grey eyes meet her own, his face like set stone. Blood rushes to Hermione's face and she looks down at her toast to cover her embarrassment from her friends.

"What's wrong with you," Ron says, his mouth full of food. Hermione hadn't noticed that their conversation had ended, but now Harry and Ron both sat staring at her expectantly.

"I didn't sleep well," she mutters. This, at least, was not a lie and seemed to satisfy them for the moment.

"We came to visit you in the library yesterday but you weren't there," Ron says, and Harry nods in agreement.

"I wasn't feeling well, I-," Hermione is cut off by one of the second year quidditch players coming to ask Harry about an upcoming try-out, and Hermione is spared the lie she was about to let cross her lips. She grabs her things and decides to head to class early, not waiting to hear what either one of her friends has to say about it. She's just rounded the corner away from the Great Hall when she hears the click of men's shoes growing louder behind her.

"Granger." The voice belongs to Draco Malfoy, and Hermione considers breaking into a run to avoid whatever confrontation is about to take place. Before she can make her next move, Draco grabs her by the elbow and pulls her along the corridors, ducking out of sight each time another student walks by them. Hermione wants to cry out, but the sound is caught in her throat and she allows herself to be pulled along by the taller Slytherin boy. They reach a hallway that Hermione doesn't recognize and Draco pushes her into a deep recess in the wall- out of sight from both directions. She feels like a mouse cornered by a coiled snake and when Draco leans in closer, looming above her small frame she instinctively pushes herself flush with the wall behind her to try and gain some distance.

"What kind of game are you playing," Draco hisses, his jaw flexed like he's holding back more.

"I'm not playing a game," Hermione whispers, listening for any sound of footsteps, "I just want to forget about what happened." Draco squints and purses his lips at this response- Hermione can tell he thinks she's lying to him.

"Your boyfriend has been sneaking around the castle, spying on me for weeks," Draco says, "Don't think I don't notice you two and the Weasley scum always whispering around me." Hermione is at a loss for words. It was true that they had been talking about Draco an awful lot after following him to Borgin and Burkes over the summer. Harry was convinced that Draco had a plan he was organizing and Hermione and Ron had been entertaining the idea for over a month. She tries to slide out from under him but he slams his palm to the wall next to her, trapping her.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy," Hermione bites, "I have much more interesting things to spend my time on than thinking about you." Draco smirks, the movement making his eyes squint in a way Hermione might have found attractive on anyone but the man in front of her.

He drops his head closer to her face and she can feel his breath against her cheeks as he whispers, "You and your friends put my father in prison. I know about the secret Order you're all a part of. I think that I am exactly the most interesting thing you have to spend time on." Hermione's face burns. "If I find out you three are planning something to mess with me I'll kill you." The threat shocks her into action and she pulls her wand from her robes, pushes Draco roughly away, and comes to stand in the hallway, the wand directed at his chest.

"I helped you because I wanted to, Draco," she says, watching the surprised look on his face melt into confusion, "I don't know what lies your parents have fed you, but we are not your enemy."

"Miss Granger." Hermione jumps at the sound of Professor Snape's nasal voice. He stands at the far end of the corridor, his expression severe. Draco reveals himself and Snape's expression sours even further. Hermione hastily stores her wand back in her robes and swallows the lump of anxiety threatening to choke her. Draco seems at ease in the presence of Snape, a professor that has always shown him a great deal of special treatment. "Both of you, detention after class with me. Tonight." Before either Draco or Hermione could protest, Snape was gone, his long black robes dragging behind him.

"This isn't over, Granger," Draco spits, straightening out his own robes and turning his back to her to walk away.

"Oh, shove off, Malfoy," Hermione says, waiting for the Slytherin to exit the corridor before following the same direction towards her first class.

* * *

The rest of the day becomes a blur as Hermione searches for an explanation for Harry and Ron as to why she would be spending the night with Draco Malfoy.

"You did what?" Ron blurts, his eyes wide with shock as Hermione fills both him and Harry in on the incidents in the library and the corridor. They are in the Gryffindor common rooms, counting the moments until Hermione's scheduled detention. Harry sits stewing in an armchair, his face an unreadable mix of emotions. She can tell that both boys are hurt by her keeping secrets from them, but neither looks angry with her- a point that brings her a great deal of relief.

"The nerve of that piece of-, to think he'd trap you like that and-," Ron sputters, his hands now balled into fists on his lap. Harry looks up, meeting Hermione's eyes with an alarming intensity.

"You could find out what he's up to, Hermione," Harry says softly, his jaw working as he chooses his next words, "Make him trust you." Ron lets out a quick laugh, seeing the look on her face.

"That's ridiculous," she scoffs, "Seriously Harry, listen to what you're saying."

"It could work," Harry mumbles, more to himself than either of his friends, "There's a chance he might want out of whatever scheme Voldemort has him running." Both Ron and Hermione flinch at the Dark Lord's name, something that Harry always takes great pride in saying every chance he gets.

"Are you mental," Ron asks, his mouth still pulled into a smile from his laugh. Harry shakes his head at the other boy in annoyance before catching Hermione with pleading eyes.

"Please just give it a go, will you," he asks her. She shrugs in submission, Ron's smile quickly fading.

"I don't think this will work," Hermione says in defiance, "But I'll try."

Harry stands and gives her shoulder a quick squeeze with his calloused hand. He and Ron both wave her a goodbye as she climbs through the portrait that separates Gryffindor tower from the rest of the school. Her chest is tight with anxiety as she tries to reason through any sort of meaningful conversation with Draco in her head. If their last encounter was anything to go by, this would be a difficult endeavor. Her mind drifts again to images of the defeated boy she saw on the library floor, sparking a small flame of hope in her gut that she hopes can survive the next few hours. If Harry is right and there is a chance to bring Draco back, it would be a big step towards understanding what they were up against. She pulls a watch from her robes, only a few more minutes before she was expected in Snape's office. Hermione breaks into a run. 


	3. Detention

Hermione enters Snape's classroom winded and flushed after rushing from Gryffindor Tower. Draco sits alone in the room, his back to her at one of the many wooden tables in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He doesn't turn to look at her but she watches the muscles in his back tense beneath his robes when he hears her. Hermione takes a seat at a separate table and chances a look at the pale boy's face. Draco's jaw is set and his eyes stare intently at his hands which rest on the tabletop before him. Hermione can tell that whatever his thoughts are, they must be unkind. 

"Malfoy, Miss. Granger," Snape's drawl sounds from the entrance to his adjourning office, he stands rigidly upright in his long, dark robes. Both Hermione and Draco shift in their seats, sitting straighter to avoid any additional punishment. Snape looks between the two of them, his face sour like he's tasted something particularly unpleasant, and gestures toward a collection of mops and brooms near the front of the classroom. "Clean this room top to bottom," Snape says lazily, "An accident occurred during my last lesson, resulting in an unfortunate smattering of blood." 

Draco scoffs, his mouth pulled into a sneer. "Couldn't you just-," Draco starts, but Snape holds up an inpatient hand to stop him.

"No magic, I've left this task for the two of you." 

Hermione can tell Draco wants to complain further by the way his jaw is working, but she's glad when he sits back in his chair and doesn't make the situation worse. Snape tells them they have one and a half hours to clean then leaves the room for some unknown business. Hermione pushes away from her table and begins to roll up the sleeves on her robe, preparing to do the majority of the required work. Draco doesn't move, opting to watch her flit throughout the room, his gaze like a hot iron on her skin. She does her best to ignore him, thinking instead to the conversation she had with Harry and Ron earlier in the evening. How she would manage Harry's quest she could not conceive. 

The blood is mostly secluded to one area of the classroom near the front, but as she inspects the room, Hermione finds speckles scattered across nearly every corner. This is evidently why Snape has not been invited to teach this class in all of his years at Hogwarts. Hermione has removed most of the larger stain with the mop by the time Draco stands and makes his way toward her at last. She avoids his eyes and instead watches his feet as he comes to stand in front of her. She makes a big show of moving her mop about but is startled when Draco grabs the handle in one quick motion, forcing her to stop the charade. 

"What would you have done to me in the hallway," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. Seeing her bewildered expression he continues, "When you pointed your wand at me, what were you prepared to do?" Hermione bites the inside of her cheek, her hands still clutching the handle of the mop below Draco's. If she's honest with herself, she has no idea what her plan was when she drew her wand, only that she was scared and needed to show him she would fight. 

"I seem to recall you threatening to kill me," she says, her voice small and unsteady.

"I know what I said, I'm asking what you were planning to do to me." 

"I-," Hermione swallows the lump in her throat, "I wouldn't have hurt you." This is true, she realizes as she says the words- she wouldn't have hurt him unless he hurt her first. Draco purses his lips at this admission and lets go of the mop, his gaze now distant as he backs away from her. She lets herself breathe normally with the surrendered space and, again, busies herself with the task at hand. Hermione is careful not to say anything more, she will let Draco come to her with conversation if he wants to. It feels an awful lot like dealing with a dangerous animal, she realizes. 

Draco chooses a broom from the collection and gets to work sweeping on the opposite side of the room from her. Their eyes meet periodically, whether by chance or intent Hermione has trouble determining. Though she never in her life expected to see Draco holding a broom that wouldn't make you fly, she is stunned to realize he looks quite natural when he's focused. They work methodically together and are finished by the time Snape re-enters the classroom, his face apathetic as he scrutinizes their thoroughness. 

"You may go," Snape says, but holds up an arm to slow them leaving,"I do not ever want to see you in the position you were in this morning. Do I make myself clear?" 

"Yes Professor," Hermione says, looking to Draco to repeat her affirmation. He can only seem to muster a nod, his mouth returned to his signature sneer. They leave the classroom together, turning through the darkened hallways in silence. When they're at a safe distance from the room, Hermione stops walking. Draco looks back at her, his expression placid as he waits for her to make her next move. 

"What's wrong," he says in a low voice, "Afraid to be seen with me?" His tone is casual but she can sense a secret doubt there- Hermione suspects this is something that might truly offend him. She says her next words without giving herself time to think, afraid she might lose her resolve. 

"Would you like to find a place to talk?" 

Draco's calm facade breaks for an instant and she catches a glimpse of his baffled expression before he looks away from her. Hermione clenches her fists at her side and waits painstaking moments before he gives her a reply.

"What could you possibly want to speak to me about?"

"It doesn't have to be about anything in particular, we could just... talk?" Hermione blushes as his eyes search her face intently for answers. 

"Follow me," he says, and before she can say anything more he turns and walks briskly away. They make their way through the corridors quickly, careful not to make any unnecessary noise after curfew. Draco moves like a ghost, Hermione is sure this is a path he walks often at night, she's barely able to keep herself from tripping over her own robes in her quest to not be left behind. They come to what looks like a dead end. She is about to ask Draco if they've made a wrong turn when he opens a small broom cupboard hidden along the wall. 

"I am not going-" Hermione says before Draco reaches a finger to his lips, silencing her. The sound of footsteps echoes clearly through one of the neighboring corridors, Draco must of heard it before she spoke. He gestures for her to enter the cupboard and, despite her reservations, she obliges, ducking her head to squeeze into the small space among brooms and buckets. Draco enters and closes the door softly behind them. 

For a moment they crouch only inches apart, waiting for the sound of footsteps to abate. Hermione can't see now that the door is shut and she stumbles among the hidden items in the cupboard, making a great deal of noise for whoever might be listening. Draco's hands come rushing to steady her, his grip tight against the outside of her arms. Hermione tenses, pleading that they won't be caught hiding in a closet together. For a horrifying few seconds the footsteps grow louder, but both Draco and Hermione relax as the sound moves farther away. 

Draco drops his hands from her arms, the places his fingers dug into her buzzing with an electric sensation. He whispers a near silent spell beside her and the wall to Hermione's side disappears, spilling them both out into moonlit grass. Draco mutters again and the hole in the side of the school exterior closes, the stones knitting together seamlessly. He jerks his head in the direction of the lake and they make their way carefully across the long, manicured lawns. They stop at an area overlooking the water below and neither says a word for a few long moments as they sit amongst the trees. 

"I'm surprised you feel comfortable being alone with me," Draco breaks the silence, making Hermione jump slightly beside him. This was not an accurate assessment, Hermione has never been less comfortable. 

"I'm not afraid of you," she lies, her voice breathy and too high. He looks at her, his lips in a near smile and raises his eyebrows. Sitting here like this, Hermione notices more of his features. His cheekbones are harsh in the light from the moon and his jaw cuts a sharp angle over his throat. He's thinner than she has seen him in years, and the circles under his eyes betray how little sleep he must be getting. A feeling of pity wells up inside her as she looks, for the first real time, at this boy she has hated for so many years. A boy that has grown up surrounded by so much evil and wickedness that it taints nearly every word from his mouth. Hermione reaches out a tentative hand and places it on Draco's knee. He flinches, but before she can withdraw the touch he grabs her hand in his and squeezes it. 

"I know what you're doing," he says, his hand still holding hers. She can't hide the worried expression before he sees it. He drops her hand and clenches his now empty fingers. "Did you really think I'd believe you?" His expression is near unreadable but his measured tone betrays a deeper emotion to her, something hurting. 

"I don't know what you mean." Another lie, but Hermione can't reveal anything more to him. 

"Are you to be my savior? Isn't that what this is all about?" 

This takes Hermione by surprise, something she doesn't hide from him. He's looking at her, his mouth still in that almost smile, like they're sharing a private joke. 

"Do you want me to be," she asks, her voice so quiet she can barely hear herself speak. He cocks his head at her question, seeming to relish the desperation in her tone. In an instant he's upon her, his mouth mere inches from her neck. Hermione's ears pound with the rush of blood to her head and she sucks in a ragged breath, so loud she's sure he's heard it. 

"Go ahead and try," he teases, his nose brushing against her cheek, "The idea that you, a mudblood, would matter to me is pathetic." 

"You don't mean that," Hermione bites, pulling her head away from him so she can look him square in the face. "You say all of these terrible things to push people away from you, Draco. I want to help you." 

"You can't help me."

"Let me try," she pleads. Draco's mouth twists, his eyes narrowing as he leans his head toward her. He reaches up a hand and grabs her jaw, his fingers light but insistent that she continue to look at him. 

"Leave me alone, you don't understand what I have to do. You don't understand anything," he warns, his voice wavering. 

"Tell me, I can help you," Hermione stammers. Draco's eyes squeeze shut and he drops his hand from her face, letting it rest in her lap. Hermione encloses his hand in both of her own, warming his shockingly cold skin. Draco is fighting with himself over something, and Hermione's heart races as she mulls over the possibilities of what he'll admit to her. He stands quickly, pulling his hand harshly away from her and walks back towards the castle. The silence stretches infinitely between them as she sits and watches him disappear back through the secret entrance to the school.


	4. A Hidden Pain

Draco fiddles with the hem of his sleeve, the familiar burning sensation in his forearm worse today than it had been in weeks. He shifts uncomfortable at his seat, a plate of untouched eggs and toast sits before him. Pansy is saying something to him now, and he realizes she may have been talking to him for some time when he catches the annoyed edge to her tone. Draco looks up at her, abandoning his thoughts and desperately ignoring the pain in his left arm, to find she's waiting for some sort of reply. 

"Have you not been listening," she whines, her face scrunched up in the way he hates. He gives her a tight smile, all he can muster, but better than nothing at all. She sighs and turns her attention to a girl sitting next to her, someone Draco has met plenty of times but never bothered to learn the name of. As Pansy leans in to whisper something in the girls ear, Draco catches the briefest glimpse of brown curls over her shoulder. He sucks in a breath, the pain in his arm intensifying as his mind goes to that night on the castle grounds- a night he's been dutifully forgetting. He slouches sideways to get a better look at her, but her face is buried in a newspaper, obscuring most of his view. Draco had been avoiding her the best that he could outside the classes they shared together- which were thankfully few- but he couldn't keep his eyes from drifting to her every chance that he got. 

Pansy reaches across the table and straightens his collar, much to his annoyance as she now blocks his view of the other side of the room. She's making soft cooing noises, something she thinks he finds cute. He can't hide the grimace from his face quickly enough. 

"What is wrong with you," she snaps, drawing the eyes of some of the other Slytherins' surrounding them. He waves her off without saying anything, and watches her pale cheeks turn a deep crimson in her annoyance. He gives her another smile, hoping this will satisfy her, but Pansy stands in a huff, gathering her things and stomping away. She means to make him feel guilty, to follow her out of the Great Hall and apologize, but all Draco feels is relief once she's gone. He allows himself just one more look- one more look shouldn't draw any attention, he thinks. 

Hermione's eyes are on him, her paper now resting folded on the table, a mug of tea held between both of her small hands. Draco wants to look away, or to sneer, something to show her this wasn't intentional but he's fixed in place. She doesn't look away either, her brows raising in a silent question meant only for him. He doesn't know what this is, he feels nothing towards this girl beyond a base curiosity. He hates her, he hates her friends, he hates what she did to him, to his father. She is nothing to him, nothing but a nuisance, an obstacle. He can't look away. Eventually students begin to stand, filing from the hall and blocking his view. He too is pulled along with his friends toward their first class. A weight lifts from his chest as he gets further away from her, like she's something oppressive meant to hold him back. The burning in his arm begins to subside, his hand moving to it instinctively every few minutes to make sure his sleeve hasn't ridden up.

The rest of the day passes in a blur, a sensation Draco is all too familiar with two months into the term. He could barely keep track of what day it was, relying almost entirely on Pansy to push and pull him to each class, to remind him to eat and sleep. This, he admits, is not a fair burden to lay on the girl- he knows that she loves him and is using that devotion for his own personal gain. Though, if it wasn't for Pansy he thinks he would have failed most of his courses by now, so he's glad to keep her around. She hangs off of him, pulling him to the side before classes to smash her mouth against his, willing him to respond. He gives her what she wants, but only ever enough to keep her happy and nothing more- it's all he can stand to do. 

Draco sits in the Slytherin common rooms now, his eyes glued to the perpetual fire that burns year long in the fireplace. Pansy gives him a kiss on the cheek and says something about going to see a friend, leaving him alone for the first time since this morning. He feels antsy, too full of nervous energy to stay put for much longer. His plans play over and over in his head, if he makes a single wrong move his life will be over. Draco lets himself imagine serving time in Azkaban with his father, what it would be like to see his father so broken and alone knowing that each of them was only counting the days until the Dark Lord came to finish them off. A shudder ripples through him at the thought and spurs him to move from his seat- soon he's leaving the dungeons and heading towards the only place he's found peace all year. 

The castle is quiet at this time of night, the silence like a blanket enveloping his senses. He longs for this feeling, for the absence of people and forced conversations. His movements are seamless, practiced after so many nights sneaking away to his hidden place, and he's standing outside the broom closet in record time. After a quick look over his shoulder to ensure he hasn't been followed, Draco slips into the welcome dark of the small cupboard. He's in the room only a few seconds before he realizes something is very wrong. He's not alone. 

Draco reaches in his pocket instinctually, drawing his wand and moving backwards until his back slams into the wooden door behind him. The sound of brooms and buckets being knocked over sets his heart racing but he still can't get an accurate idea of where the other person is standing. He flicks his wrist, muttering a disarming spell into the darkness. The spell hits the opposite wall unchallenged but in the brief flash of light emitted from his wand tip he gets the barest silhouette of a girl crouched somewhere beside him. The scent of old books and something like cinnamon fills his nostrils and he lowers his wand. Hermione lets out a whimpering sound, obviously startled by his sudden attack and he's surprised at the immediate guilt that threatens to surface. He reaches down in the dark and finds a bit of her robe, pulling her up to stand in front of him before pocketing his wand. 

"What are you doing here," he asks accusingly. 

"I was waiting for you, obviously," she replies.

"Obviously."

"Well apparently not," she sighs, shifting in front of him, her robes still clutched in his hand. Her smell is all around him, he's not sure how he didn't notice it immediately upon entering the room. She must have been waiting for him for hours. 

"How long have you been in here?" 

"Well I uh-," she stammers, moving so the bit of her robes is pulled from his hand, "I wasn't sure what time you'd be here and I- I didn't want to miss you, so-"

"Stop, I don't want to know," Draco says, rubbing his eyes with the butt of his hands in frustration. He had hoped for a moment of peace out on the lawns but that was evidently not going to be a possibility anymore. "Did Potter send you to find me?"

"What? No I uh- I didn't tell him about this place," she says breathlessly.

Draco can't help the smile that tugs at his mouth at her distress over something so trivial- he's grateful that the darkness hides this expression from her. However, there's something else there, something like an excitement that sparks in his chest at the idea that Hermione would keep something hidden from Potter, especially something like that conversation they had at the lake. He had been toying with her then, hoping she would give him some idea of what the Potter and Weasley boy had been saying about him. He was sure Potter had seen his arm that first night on the train, he had only had his sleeve up for a moment, but he had no idea how long the boy had been hiding amongst the luggage. Hermione had, admittedly, surprised him with her candor, he could tell she was genuine with her promise of help, though he's sure there is nothing she could ever do for him. He had called her a Mudblood and she still offered herself to him. 

"Were you hoping to speak with me again," Draco asks, some part of him wishing he could see her face right now. He's met with a long silence, a silence long enough to make him aware that his heart is still beating loud in his chest. 

"I thought _you_ wanted to talk," she says in a small voice, the confusion evident in her tone, "You were staring at me for ages, I thought that was a signal." Draco goes rigid, embarrassed to be caught off guard by her words. He can't make himself respond. 

"Truth is, I've been coming here a lot, hoping to find you," she continues, "I didn't know how else to get your attention." 

Draco's stomach drops at the confession, that nagging feeling that's been pulling at his insides the last few weeks resurfacing with a vengeance. The memory of her hands holding his, that brief glimpse of a different ending to his story. He swallows it all back down hard, hating the way it makes him feel in this moment. 

"That's pathetic," he bites, now glad he won't have to see the hurt looks she's going to give him.

He pushes past her and pulls his wand from his pocket, muttering the spell to reveal the exit out onto the castle grounds. The air is sharp against his face, the early winter winds blowing in the cold from the lake. He wraps his robes tighter around his body and sets off across the lawns to the place he sat with Hermione so many nights ago. He can hear her following behind him, giving him space like she can tell he needs it more than anything in this moment. He hates her for being here, for ruining this place for him. In the countless times he'd been back to this spot under the trees since he spoke with her, the only thing he could think of was her pleading brown eyes, her desperate promises to help him. Draco knows he could have found a different place to hide away, but that thing inside him wouldn't let him, that thing that had been feeding him images of her for weeks. Images of her pushed up against the castle wall squirming under his gaze, of her pretending not to notice him staring at her in Snape's classroom, of her grabbing his leg by the lake, oblivious of what it did to him. Draco sits, his back to Hermione, but he can feel her eyes on the back of his head and it drives him insane. 

"Just sit," he snaps at her, looking out across the lake to try and move his mind to something other than those images. Hermione slumps down next to him a moment later shivering in her robes like some helpless creature. 

"Did you think- think about what I said last time," Hermione stutters, her voice shaking from the cold.

"What do you think," Draco challenges, rather than give his honest answer. Hermione's face scrunches as she thinks, and Draco feels a pang as he realizes how much he likes the way it looks when she's concentrating. He had spent the better half of an hour watching her clean Snape's classroom with that same look on her face. 

"I think you wouldn't let me be here if you hadn't considered my offer," she says, confidence in her answer evident in the way she turns to face him. He lets himself meet her eyes, so brown they're almost black in the limited light. She's so vulnerable at this moment, he could say anything and the words would reach right down to her core. The obvious insults surface first but he doesn't voice them this time, instead opting to let the tension mount between them. 

"Why do you think I need your help," Draco asks, testing the waters to see how much she'll reveal about what she knows. 

"I think you know why," Hermione says, obviously stalling. Draco guesses she knows nothing, a thought that finally calms him. 

"Enlighten me." 

"We um- we saw-," she stops, and Draco's mind races. _We_ _saw-_ he replays her words over and over trying to imagine what she could be referring to. It was only Potter on the train, he doesn't think the other two even knew what the boy he was up to at the time. Draco's arm burns red hot, a reminder of the fragility of his situation. 

"What did _you_ see?" 

"Well, its really quite complicated to explain," she says, her face turning pink, "I- I um-" 

Draco grabs her by the shoulders, barely keeping himself from shaking the truth out of her. He's desperate now, and scared that she's really seen him doing something, something that could ruin all of his plans. _No_ ,he thinks, that can't be true or Potter would have already turned him in. The petrified look on Hermione's face catches him off guard and he loosens his grip just enough to see her relax. He realizes he's trapped himself with this reaction, now she knows for sure that he has something to hide, something he _needs_ to keep hidden from her. He has to do something right now, or risk everything else. A million thoughts and warnings rush through his brain as he pulls her closer to him and kisses her. 

Hermione's body is rigid, she doesn't move an inch even as he moves to wrap his arms around her back, closing the small distance between them. The pain in his mark is excruciating, and he begins to lose confidence in his plan as Hermione continues to remain statue-like in his arms. He's about to pull away when she reaches both hands up from between them and around his waist, crushing herself to him in one quick motion. Her mouth opens against his as she accepts the kiss, her breath hot against his lips. Draco grunts, surprised by this reaction, surprised by the genuine warmth spreading through his body as she pulls at his robes to bring him closer. He guides her small body backwards until she's lying in the grass beneath him, her eyes staring back at him, bright with something he doesn't recognize. He kisses her again, and she pulls his weight down on top of her, his hips dipping to meet her's willingly. She's no longer shivering, instead Draco can feel the heat radiating off of her like a furnace, seeping into him until it's all he can think about. 

He's tangling his hands in her hair now, feeling the soft curls in his fingers and grinding his hips against her without even meaning to do it. Hermione whimpers beneath him at the rough motion and moves her hands from his back to the front of his robes, feeling for a way in. He sticks his tongue in her mouth, relishing in the feeling of her untucking his dress shirt with clumsy hands. Draco's breath comes out ragged against her lips as her hands make contact with the bare skin of his stomach. He needs her to be touching every part of him and wishes they weren't so out in the open. Draco lifts his weight from her, hoping to lead her someplace more private but the moment they're separated it's as if a spell has been broken. 

Hermione stares at him in wide-eyed terror, scrambling out from under him until she's a few feet away. He sits back on his heels, watching her panicked movements, the reality of the situation hitting him like a stone. What was his plan, he wonders to himself, his thoughts scattered and broken as he reaches for some idea of what he should do next. They stay like, that staring and breathing hard for so long the cold begins to weed its way back in- his shirt is still untucked, exposing his skin to the wind. Draco had wanted to give her another reason to keep these talks a secret from Potter, to make her scared to tell him what had happened tonight. He hadn't meant _that_ to happen. Hermione is shivering again, her eyes still bright but with something different this time. Draco decides to break the tension and stands, offering a polite hand to Hermione which she refuses. He shrugs and makes his way back towards the castle, slower this time in case she wants to follow him back through the secret entrance rather than whatever route she used last time. 

He takes his time pulling the wand from his pocket and murmuring the spell to stretch the stones open. He feels her, rather than hears her coming up behind him and he moves to let her climb through first. They only linger for a few seconds in the cupboard to let the stones close and listen for footsteps. Hermione leaves in a rush and is gone around the corner toward Gryffindor tower before Draco has a chance to close the cupboard door behind him. He walks toward the dungeons, his mind awash with anxiety and he begins to feel he might be sick. He's barely makes it to his dormitory, then to his bed before collapsing. Pulling his knees up to his chest he lets the nervous energy rock through him like electricity. This is not the first panic attack Draco has had to endure in the last few weeks, and he's used to the feeling by now. He wants to cry out, to be held and comforted through this like a weaker person might do, but instead he grabs a fistful of blankets from his bed and bites down on them. His sobs are muffled by the thick fabric. 

Draco is exhausted by the end of it and lets himself drift off, the smell of books and cinnamon still clinging to his robes, a horrible reminder of the thing he's just done. 


	5. Hogsmeade

Hermione links her arms with Harry and Ron, happy for the distraction a trip to Hogsmeade will afford her. The cold wind that had battered the school for the last few weeks had brought a dumping of fluffy white snow, a welcome change to the otherwise depressing scenery. Their boots crunch as they follow the trodden path of the students that came before them, and soon they are in the center of town. Villagers and students mill around, looking through shop windows or huddling near suspended fires hoping to get warm. Ron pulls Harry and Hermione towards the Three Broomsticks, their favorite pub, and they move with him willingly. Harry and Hermione sit opposite each other at one of the high tables while Ron goes to get them something to drink.

"You look well," Harry comments, his face soft in the fire-lit tavern. Hermione gives him a real smile in return, surprised she's been convincing enough to fool even Harry. "It's a shame you weren't able to get anything out of Malfoy, I'm sorry for asking you to do that." Hermione coughs into her elbow to hide the rising color in her cheeks at the mention of the Slytherin boy. It had been weeks since her last encounter with Draco, and she still hadn't mentioned a single detail to Harry or Ron. She was scared of their reaction- she knows they would never abandon her, but they would certainly feel betrayed.

She's saved a reply, for the moment, as Ron sets three mugs on the table, the amber liquid inside sloshing sideways on the table between her and Harry. They both laugh at Ron's clumsiness and the conversation is forgotten. The three of them sip their drinks, excitedly remarking on rumors about Ginny's relationships and who Hermione might invite to Slughorns' winter party. The day in the village is a welcome one after the constant suspicion and whispered conversations they've been having in the castle since term has started.

On the way back to the castle Hermione hugs both boys to her, their hands coming to wrap around her in a loose embrace as they walk. Hermione feels this may be the start of a different school year, one without as much anxiety for the three of them. This feeling is cut to an abrupt end as Harry, Ron and Hermione come across Katie Bell and her friend Leanne practically screaming at each other on the path, a brown paper package being ripped wildly back and forth between them. Before they have time to intervene, the package splits in two, spilling something from within and Katie is rocketing into the air. She hangs suspended, ten feet above the terrified group, a petrifying scream ringing through the air- a scream that's echoed by Leanne. Harry orders Hermione and Ron to stay with the two girls and breaks into a run in search of help.

Hermione grabs ahold of Leanne, pulling her away from the the strewn contents of the package and Ron stands beneath Katie, his face twisted in troubled confusion. Katie falls gracelessly to the snow, sprawled out like a corpse moments before Harry returns with Hagrid in tow. Hagrid rushes to Katie's side as Harry, Ron and Hermione search for what fell out of the package- surprised when they find an ornate necklace lying in snow. Hagrid gathers Katie's limp form in his enormous arms and tells Harry to bring the necklace, advising he use something other than his hands to pick it up. Harry removes his scarf and gently picks the necklace up out of the snow, cradling it in his hands like a bomb that might explode if he's not careful. Hermione grabs hold of Leanne and helps her to follow along as they return to the castle in a rushed group. They haven't been back at the castle for more than a half hour before Harry has begun to tell them his suspicions.

"It has to be Malfoy, the necklace must be what he bought at Borgin and Burkes this summer," Harry says as they walk towards McGonagall's office. Neither Hermione nor Ron says anything to dispute this claim, not with Harry in the frantic state of mind he's in. Hermione thinks again to the last night at the lake with Draco, he had been so scared before he kissed her, like there was something he thought she knew. Her heart aches to think this could have been avoided if she had told Harry about their conversation weeks ago. She doesn't want to believe it's him- but only for selfish reasons that she'll need to keep hidden now more than ever. McGonagall shuts down Harry's theories in her office, revealing that Draco has been attending a detention with her rather than traveling to Hogsmeade. Harry's shoulders fall only a fraction in defeat, but Hermione can tell this won't put a stop to his distrust in the Slytherin boy. The trio breaks off after learning Katie will recover, with Harry and Ron heading back to the common rooms and Hermione muttering something indistinct to hide her true objective.

Hermione heads towards the dungeons, though she realizes she's not entirely sure where the entrance to the Slytherin common rooms is. Catching sight of a group of second year Slytherin girls, she follows behind them to get a more accurate idea of what she's looking for. She watches the girls stand before a bare stretch of wall before stepping though a hidden entrance that reveals at the sound of a password. Hermione moves around a corner and tucks herself behind one of the many dark stone statues that decorate the recesses in these corridors. She's mostly hidden from anyone coming or going toward the common rooms and steels herself for what might be a very long wait.

Hours pass and still no sign of the blond haired boy. Hermione bites her lip, anxiety growing the longer she's away from Harry and Ron- soon she knows they'll come looking for her in the castle. The lights in the corridor dim as the time for dinner comes and goes with a rush of Slytherins entering and leaving the dungeons in waves. Hermione is exhausted, the events of the afternoon stealing any comfort she found after the trip to Hogsmeade, and she finds her eyelids have become heavy with drowsiness. She doesn't remember dozing off but a muffled voice pulls her back to her hiding place.

"What the fuck are you doing," Draco whispers, his voice clearer as she blinks herself awake. He's crouching beside her behind the statue, his face an unchecked fury in the flickering candlelight. Hermione almost squeals, her head whipping around as she searches for any more Slytherins that might have discovered her here. Much to her relief they appear to be alone, but Draco's anger is consuming and she knows she isn't safe yet.

"I'm waiting for you, obviously," Hermione grumbles, trying in vain to straighten out her mess of robes.

"Obviously."

"Yes, well-" Hermione stops, surprised to see the expression on Draco's face shift ever so slightly into something less terrifying. He backs out from behind the statue, looking down the corridor and around the corner before gesturing for her climb out after him.

"How did you know I was there," she asks, careful to keep her voice low. Draco rolls his eyes, his mouth downturned and pulls her down the corridor, leading her away from the dungeons.

"You were snoring," he says pulling her into a recess as a group of students walk by them, "And I could... smell you?" This makes Hermione's stomach do a flip. She wonders how badly she could possibly smell for him to track her down like that. They move in short bursts, careful to conceal themselves as students walk by on their way to their dormitories. Hermione knows where they are headed before she gets a glimpse of anything that she recognizes and soon she's being pushed rather harshly into the darkness of the cupboard. Draco doesn't say the spell to open the wall, instead she hears him sliding down the wall opposite her as he sits.

"Did you do it," she blurts, unable to hold back the question any longer. She's met with nothing but the sound of their breathing for longer than she can handle. "Im sorry," she says quickly, trying to cut through the awkward silence, "I didn't mean to sound so-"

"Did I do what?" Draco's voice is slow and careful.

"The necklace, did you- did you give the necklace to Katie," she asks, hating how shrill her voice sounds in the small space.

"Who thinks that?"

"Well, Harry and Ron, and maybe some of the professors. I can't be sure, but McGonagall came to your defense."

"Hm," Draco grunts in reply, "Did McGonagall tell you I was in detention today?"

"Well yes, but-"

"So how would I have _given_ a necklace to that girl?"

"Katie?"

"Yes, _Katie_."

"That's what McGonagall said," Hermione concedes, feeling silly for this interaction already. If she's honest she can't imagine how Draco is connected to any of this, but Harry's surety in Malfoy's involvement has made her question everything she's heard so far. Draco lets out a breath like a laugh and Hermione's embarrassment at accusing him grows. 

"So what _did_ you buy at Borgin and Burkes," Hermione says, her mistake realized too late. She hears him move closer to her in a rush, his robes brushing against her as he comes to crouch over her in the cramped space. 

"What did you just say," he bites, his face inches from her own. She turns her head to the side, paralyzed to the spot and unsure of how she can remedy such a blunder. This may have been the stupidest thing she's ever said, she realizes, her mind reeling as Draco waits for her to answer him. "Did you _follow_ me?" 

"Well yes, but we didn't see anything," she breathes.

" _We_?"

"I was with-"

"Potter." 

Hermione doesn't need to say anything more, Draco is breathing hard through his nose, the air tickling her face. She wants to leave, to escape to the safety of her dorm and get away from this situation she's created. 

"Did the girl die," he asks after some time, catching Hermione by surprise. Her eyes go wide in the dark, sure he's just confessed his involvement with this question. 

"No, she's going to be okay," Hermione says, her voice small so she doesn't spook him into anger again. He sits next to her now, his shoulder bumping hers as he slouches against the wall behind them. Hermione doesn't move a muscle, not sure what he'll do to her if she does. 

"I didn't mean for anyone else to get hurt," he chokes, and she can feel him shaking next to her like he's crying. Hermione still doesn't move, instead she racks her brain, trying to figure out how she'll leave the cupboard without him catching her first. She can't tell if he has his wand out, she can't even see her own hands which sit twisting together in her lap. Now she can really hear him crying, those familiar whimpering sobs sounding odd and disconnected when she can't see the boy next to her. "What do I do," he asks, his voice ragged.

"What do you want to do?" 

"I want to make sure no one finds out about this." An alarm sounds in Hermione's head and she's forced to make her move. She pushes up from the ground and reaches blindly for the doorknob, her hands swinging wildly in space, feeling nothing but air. She trips over his outstretched legs and falls hard on her knees, scrambling forward, reaching again for something to grab ahold of. Draco wraps his fingers around her ankle and pulls her back hard just as her fingertips find the wood of the cupboard door. She lets out a yelp, and he claps a hand over her mouth, his chest now flush with her back as he hold her in place. 

"I'm sorry, I can't let you leave yet," he whispers into her ear, holding her tighter as she tries to struggle her way out of his arms. "He's going to kill me." 

Hermione stops her struggling and when he loosens his grip she turns so that she's facing toward him in the dark. 

"Who is going to kill you?" 

"Don't make me say it," he says, his voice thick. Hermione knows exactly who, the nervous pit in her stomach deepening as she remembers the events of the last few years. The dark lord had told Draco to do something and he must have failed, she thinks, her concern growing.

"Do you want me to help you now," she asks, reaching a tentative hand to his face, her fingers finding wet tears on his cheeks. 

"You can't help me," he says, leaning his face ever so slightly into her palm. Hermione reaches with her other hand into the pocket of her robes and removes her wand.

"Lumos," she whispers, lighting her wand tip to bathe the cupboard with diffuse white light. Draco squeezes his eyes shut and drops his arms away from her, shying away from the light. He looks terrible, his face pale, his expression hopeless. His right hand tugs on his left robe sleeve, pulling the fabric down further on his arm. Hermione reaches over to him and moves his hand away, pulling his sleeve up to reveal a raw, pink outline of the dark mark on his left forearm. She gasps, dropping the sleeve and distinguishing the light once more. 

"Oh no, Draco, why did you let them do that to you?" 

" _Let_ them? As if I had a choice. You put my father in prison, someone needed to take his place." 

Hermione pulls him into a tight hug, his face tucked into her shoulder as he shakes with silent sobs. She kisses the top of his head, rubbing her hand in careful circles on his back until he relaxes into her. 

"I won't tell anyone," she whispers into his hair, "This isn't your fault Draco, we'll figure something out." 

His face rises and he touches his lips so lightly to her own she's sure it's meant as a question. Hermione's pulse jumps as she lets him kiss her, allowing him to melt into her in the dark, his body no longer shaking. The kiss is like a promise between them, a promise Hermione is almost certain she'll live to regret. Draco isn't someone that was easy to put trust in- in fact in all the years she has known him he has never given her a reason to. He pulls her down so she's lying atop him, their legs tangled together. 

"This doesn't feel real," Draco says, his voice distant as she places a hand on his chest, "I can't tell what's real anymore." 

"I'm real," she says propping herself up on an elbow, "I'm going to fix this." He pulls her tighter to him once more before dropping his arms to his sides, releasing her. She stands and leaves him there, lying in the dark, hoping as hard as she can that she won't run into Harry or Ron on her way back to the dorms. 


	6. Secret

Draco stays lying on the unforgiving floor of the cupboard long after Hermione leaves him to his thoughts. Whatever amount of control he felt he had over his situation has long since dwindled as he considers the implications of confiding in Hermione Granger. He wonders how he can manipulate what minuscule amount of power he still holds over her and those who trust him in order to finish his mission. Hermione is an interesting girl, he thinks, someone who was able to surpass her impediment to become one of the smartest people Draco has ever met. His father had called it a fluke when he first heard that a _mudblood_ had eclipsed Draco and his friends in every subject they studied. 

Draco considers his father's predicament- stuck rotting in prison for his beliefs while Draco hides in cupboards with one of the creaturse that put him there. Lucius Malfoy had spent most of his life living in fear of the Dark Lord, even after his supposed death sixteen years ago. He wonders if this will be his shared fate- a life spent terrified of a man who Draco is expected to revere above anyone else. _And for what,_ Draco muses, if his family was truly better given their blood status, how did he find himself beaten time and again by Potter's band of allies? 

Draco sits upright, his eyes seeing stars as the blood in his chest takes its time in traveling up to his brain. He supposes he should eat and drink, something to at least keep him alive until he can justify dying. When Draco leaves the small room he's stunned to find himself surrounded by students, a group of first year Hufflepuffs in a small crowd right outside the door. They stare at him wide-eyed and whispering as Draco gets his bearings. 

"Tell me what time it is," he demands one of the small Hufflepuff boys in the group. 

"Almost lunch," the boy replies quickly, ushering his friends further down the corridor in a quiet panic.

Draco brushes a thick layer of dust and dirt from his robes, the cloud of debris billowing in the mid-morning light. He has been hid away for much longer than he ever could have imagined- it felt like only hours ago that Hermione had slipped away from him into the castle. That familiar ache in his stomach returns as he thinks of her; a feeling that Draco can't decide is one of disgust or something much more. He wants to believe that she'll be true to her word and not reveal his secrets to either Potter or Weasley, but he knows it would be much more realistic to pack his bags for Azkaban. Draco thanks the gods above he put Madam Rosmerta under the imperius curse before last night's admission of guilt- the extra added scrutiny would make it near impossible for Draco to make such a bold move again.

Draco's legs have been leading him toward the Great Hall without him noticing, his hunger driving the more subconscious parts of his brain to act in his stead. A group of his companions is already seated at the Slytherin table and, much to Draco's dismay, the first person to notice him is Pansy. He wishes he could give up and return to the dorms, but Pansy is quick and crosses the vast room to meet him within seconds. 

"Where have you been," she gasps in his face, pulling him into a tight hug that he does not reciprocate. 

"Busy," he replies, ignoring the way her face falls at this word. 

"Why won't you tell me what you're doing, I was so-"

"I told you never to ask me that," he snaps at her, releasing himself from her arms with a gentle shove.

Draco walks past her and sits himself down among his other friends, leaving her dumbstruck near the front entrance. He shovels forkfuls of stew into his mouth, trying to remember the last thing he had eaten before this moment and coming up with nothing. The food is fantastic, so good that Draco doesn't care that he's earning curious glances from his peers as he grabs yet another slice of buttered bread. No one but Pansy has dared ask him about his whereabouts for the last fifteen hours, all having some idea of the massive burden that had been placed on Draco by the Dark Lord. 

He steals a look across the room and finds Hermione sitting with her friends on the opposite side of the hall, a large textbook propped in front of her as she points something out to the Weasley boy. Potter catches him looking and gives him a sneer, a look they shared often- this, he decides, is a good sign Hermione had not told him anything. If and when Draco is discovered, Potter will be the first in line to gloat. Draco pushes away from the table, deciding to spend the remainder of his day locked away in his dorm room- desperate to be away from the prying eyes of his fellow classmates. His eyes drift to Hermione as he passes and she mouthes a silent _wait_ to him over her book. He wants to ignore this and continue on to his room, but part of him knows that in order to continue the charade he will need to keep her happy. 

He waits outside the Great Hall for her, casually leaning against the corridor wall and inspecting the hem of his sleeve. When she emerges a minute later he begins to walk in front of her, careful not to give any indication he's seen her until they are well away from the more crowded areas of the castle. He is leading her to the dungeons, a point that is not lost on Hermione as he catches her worried expression over his shoulder. As they get closer to the hidden entrance to the common rooms, Draco stops to slip his heavy outer robes off and throws them to Hermione. She opens her mouth to protest but he shakes his head in a silent disapproving way, nodding toward the bundle of fabric she holds in her hands. 

Hermione's face is pained as she pulls his oversized robes overtop of her own. Draco reaches past her head and pulls the large hood up high enough to obscure her mess of curls and most of her face. She looks ridiculous, he thinks, like one of the robed ghouls that wander amongst the dungeons when it rains. 

"Stay close behind me and don't look at anyone," he instructs her, motioning for her to follow as he approaches the entrance to the common rooms. He says the password to reveal the entrance in a muffled tone, not wanting Hermione to have access to this space without him there. She follows him through the dimly lit room that precedes the dorm space, the wall hangings making the area look especially grim at this time of day. Draco leads her past a small group of Slytherin second-years who all avert their eyes when they catch sight of him. He wishes Pansy could give him this same courtesy sometimes. 

"You live here," Hermione scoffs once they are safely behind the doors of his private room. 

"Obviously," he says, falling atop his bed with a loud sigh. Hermione stands awkwardly near the entrance, the robes still covering any distinguishable feature, but he can see her head moving curiously around the space like it's the first time she's seen a bedroom. 

"This is _incredible_ ," she breathes a moment later, pulling the hood of the robes down and moving toward one of the decorative wooden desks his father had sent him the year before. 

"Do they make you sleep on the floor," Draco mocks, kicking his shoes off before settling more comfortably on the bed. He knows that if he closes his eyes he'll fall immediately asleep, even with an intruder in his room. 

" _No_ , but I do have to share a room. I certainly don't have any of these," she says, her hand moving carefully over one of the many dark green tapestries adorning the walls. 

"I'm sure they come in red," Draco mutters, rubbing his hands over his tired eyes, "What do you want?" This, he admits, was a bit more blunt than he intended, but Hermione doesn't seem to notice. 

"Can I sit," she asks, gesturing toward the end of the bed. 

"Be my guest." 

Hermione climbs clumsily atop his high framed mattress, the overly large robes encumbering her movements. He snorts as she nearly topples over him, finally coming to sit cross-legged beside him. Draco reaches over to undo the single button keeping the green and black fabric attached to her and she gives him a shy smile as it falls away from her shoulders. 

"I just wanted to say that you can trust me," she says, in her usual matter-of-fact tone. 

"Fantastic news," Draco says lazily, sure that this confirmation means mostly nothing for him. 

"I mean it, Draco," she chides, "I was serious when I said I would find a way to help you." 

"I know you were serious," Draco replies, propping himself up on his elbows to get a better look at her, "I just don't know how I can _trust_ you." He knows this will push her to make him more promises, the compassion in her face revealing more than she could know. 

"I will do everything I can, and... I know some _very_ powerful people that will know what to do." 

"Dumbledore?"

"Yes exactly," she says with a smile, sure that Draco understands the gravity of her connections. 

"Did I never mention where that package was meant to go?" 

"Oh- No I don't think so, but Dumbledore would understand," she says, her smile fading as she considers his words. Draco stares at her, watching the realization cloud her expression, the quick intake of breath as she understands his question. 

"Oh." 

"Yes, _oh_."

She thinks for a minute, her eyes unfixed, "Do you promise not to do anything like that again?" Draco has to catch himself before he laughs, knowing full well this will ruin the conversation. 

"Yes, of course," he replies, his voice tight with feigned seriousness. 

"Then, there's nothing to worry about," she says, the reassuring smile affixed to her face once again. 

"How about we hold off on telling anyone else," Draco says, plastering a smile of his own to his face, "I still have till the end of the school year before anything is really expected of me."

Hermione nods slowly, allowing Draco's hand to pull her down to lie next to him on the bed. He tucks her into the crook of his arm and pulls her tight against his chest, rolling his eyes as she snuggles in closer. Draco is glad to find Hermione so receptive to his advances, he was sure she'd put up some resistance. However, given her track record as a champion of downtrodden creatures, he figures he now falls somewhere near that category in her mind. He tilts his head until his mouth rests against her hair and inhales her scent- a smell he lets haunt him when he's feeling particularly self-loathing. He lets his lips brush against her head and tightens his grip on her a fraction, loving the way her small frame fits against him. Draco is dismayed by how comfortable he feels in this position, sure that this must mean the beginnings of psychosis, and when Hermione tilts her head up so their lips meet he's sure it's the delusion that makes him deepen the kiss. 

Draco kisses her as softly as he can, letting his free hand wander up and down the side of her body until she begins to squirm against him. He slips his tongue into her mouth, licking the front of her teeth and relishing the way her mouth opens wider for him in response. His hand slips beneath her sweater and tugs on the collared shirt beneath until it comes untucked from her skirt. Hermione shudders as his cold hand moves up under her shirt, tracing the line of her stomach, then further up until his fingers find the lace of her bra. Draco is careful to watch her reactions, not wanting to overstep and scare her away. He gets his answer when Hermione shoves her hand roughly beneath the waistband of his trousers, a small moan trapped in her throat as her lips move more urgent against his. 

Draco reaches around Hermione's back and undoes the clasp of her bra as she struggles to undo his belt with one hand. He chuckles softly against her mouth and untangles his other arm so he can unbuckle his belt himself when it becomes clear she can't manage. He flips her onto her other side, pulling her towards him as he angles his hips up to rub himself against her. In this position he has access to her neck and takes the opportunity to place soft kisses against her jugular as he snakes his other arm back beneath her shirt and under her bra. 

An urgent knock at his door makes both Draco and Hermione go entirely still, Draco's face still tucked into the the crook of Hermione's neck. 

"Draco," Pansy calls from the other side of the door, "I know you're in there, let me in I want to talk." He pulls himself away from Hermione and pushes himself up on the bed, putting a finger to his lips to keep Hermione silent beside him. Her face is flushed and wild with fear as he stands and makes his way towards the door. 

"Go away," he replies, voice firm, "I'm busy, I'll come and find you later." 

"No, I want to see you," Pansy whines, Draco's patience dwindling. 

"Leave now or you won't see me at all," he calls back to her, his hand on the door in case she's bold enough to try and unlock it with a spell. 

"Fine," says Pansy, her tone defeated, "I'll see you later I guess." 

Draco breathes a sigh of relief and turns to find Hermione already up and tucking her shirt back into her skirt. 

"You could stay a little while longer," he says to her, his eyes fixed to her she pulls his discarded robes back around her shoulders. 

"I don't think that's a good idea," she says, her tone nonchalant- hiding something. He wonders if he's made her jealous speaking with Pansy and the thought sparks an inexplicable excitement. 

Draco checks the common rooms for anyone he knows before leading her back out into the dungeons. She hands him his robes before giving him a strained smile and turning to leave. 

"Wait," he says, grabbing her arm to stop her. Draco bends so he can whisper in her ear, "Come and find me next Saturday. We can... talk." Hermione snorts at this but gives him a quick nod before finally walking away from him. 

Draco walks back through the entrance to the dorms and returns to his room, holding the robes close to his face when he realizes they smell like her. He finds Pansy sometime later to apologize, but his mind is elsewhere even as he leads her back to his room. 


End file.
